Welcome to the memorial page for
Irving William Kruwell
July 14, 1933 ~ February 21, 2018 (age 84) 84 Years Old Light a Candle
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Message from Lauren Key
February 28, 2018 12:37 AM
My grandpa very famously never said I love you, at least not until recently, as he grew more sick He was not a hugger, nor a particularly demonstrative guy. For someone like myself, who is overtly affectionate, you’d think this might be a problem.
How do you tell someone you love them without saying the words? Oddly enough, scroll saw art.
Every Christmas, my family carefully unwraps Grandpa’s many wooden creations. His last project, a carving of a bear, for his great grandson, sits on a dresser, waiting for us to finally settle down and find the perfect spot to display it. We’ve got golfers, baseball players, clocks… each with their own special place, each a personal message to us individuals within the family unit, of how much we mean to him.
It makes me smile to picture Grandpa, the stern and tough Vietnam veteran crouched over his saw with patience and delicacy, creating art to share with his family. We call these people “eggs,” hard on the outside and soft on the inside :)
I did not inherit his handiness or ahem, patience for that matter, but Grandpa taught me a lot about discipline and grit. He loved telling stories about the military, and hearing about my various fitness endeavors. Every endurance event I’d complete, I could tell it made Grandpa proud—maybe because he saw some of him in me. I call this our “Viking Spirit.”
When we were little, Grandpa had a silly saying “Get your nose outta that glass.” He’d say it just as we were taking a drink, in this deep, booming voice that was rightfully scary to a small child, but then laugh so heartily. It felt so good to be on the receiving end of this “joke”— how hard I could make him laugh, simply by being around to listen.
I’ve never lived close to my grandparents, and growing up, saw them for holidays and vacations, but not in the day to day. I was once told a true relationship cannot grow without these daily interactions—otherwise, the time together is perfunctory.
I beg to differ. I carried my grandparents love throughout childhood. I looked forward to our visits together, and also felt like they were always a part of what was going on, despite the physical distance. To feel the comfort without the proximity, to me, is indicative of a true, genuine bond. I’m thirty-five and living in Thailand, and feel it just as strongly as I did growing up.
I’ve been looking over our emails throughout the years, and they are brief and sweet—minutia over weather and mowing the grass, to bigger and better things, like getting another hole in one. There are recipes, congratulatory messages, accounts of Grandma being sassy… He’d always end them with a reminder to be good. Never “Love, Grandpa.”
Collectively, though, these exchanges tell the story of a man who loved very openly, and deeply.
In our last conversation together, I asked Grandpa if he was afraid to die, and he told me no, he simply didn’t want to leave everyone behind. I understood this in a way I hadn’t before—he didn’t want to say goodbye to his loved ones, to miss out on a single thing—our stories, our milestones, or even the weather wherever we were.
Fear wasn’t keeping him alive, love was.
All who question the feelings of these “eggs” need simply to look deeper. It’s in their art, their emails, the sweet way they talk to pets, the jokes with no real punchline… These are Grandpa’s legacy. Love manifests in so many different ways, and I’m certain in Grandpa’s passing, he’s left behind pieces big and small for everyone here.
How do you tell someone you love them without saying the words? Oddly enough, scroll saw art.
Every Christmas, my family carefully unwraps Grandpa’s many wooden creations. His last project, a carving of a bear, for his great grandson, sits on a dresser, waiting for us to finally settle down and find the perfect spot to display it. We’ve got golfers, baseball players, clocks… each with their own special place, each a personal message to us individuals within the family unit, of how much we mean to him.
It makes me smile to picture Grandpa, the stern and tough Vietnam veteran crouched over his saw with patience and delicacy, creating art to share with his family. We call these people “eggs,” hard on the outside and soft on the inside :)
I did not inherit his handiness or ahem, patience for that matter, but Grandpa taught me a lot about discipline and grit. He loved telling stories about the military, and hearing about my various fitness endeavors. Every endurance event I’d complete, I could tell it made Grandpa proud—maybe because he saw some of him in me. I call this our “Viking Spirit.”
When we were little, Grandpa had a silly saying “Get your nose outta that glass.” He’d say it just as we were taking a drink, in this deep, booming voice that was rightfully scary to a small child, but then laugh so heartily. It felt so good to be on the receiving end of this “joke”— how hard I could make him laugh, simply by being around to listen.
I’ve never lived close to my grandparents, and growing up, saw them for holidays and vacations, but not in the day to day. I was once told a true relationship cannot grow without these daily interactions—otherwise, the time together is perfunctory.
I beg to differ. I carried my grandparents love throughout childhood. I looked forward to our visits together, and also felt like they were always a part of what was going on, despite the physical distance. To feel the comfort without the proximity, to me, is indicative of a true, genuine bond. I’m thirty-five and living in Thailand, and feel it just as strongly as I did growing up.
I’ve been looking over our emails throughout the years, and they are brief and sweet—minutia over weather and mowing the grass, to bigger and better things, like getting another hole in one. There are recipes, congratulatory messages, accounts of Grandma being sassy… He’d always end them with a reminder to be good. Never “Love, Grandpa.”
Collectively, though, these exchanges tell the story of a man who loved very openly, and deeply.
In our last conversation together, I asked Grandpa if he was afraid to die, and he told me no, he simply didn’t want to leave everyone behind. I understood this in a way I hadn’t before—he didn’t want to say goodbye to his loved ones, to miss out on a single thing—our stories, our milestones, or even the weather wherever we were.
Fear wasn’t keeping him alive, love was.
All who question the feelings of these “eggs” need simply to look deeper. It’s in their art, their emails, the sweet way they talk to pets, the jokes with no real punchline… These are Grandpa’s legacy. Love manifests in so many different ways, and I’m certain in Grandpa’s passing, he’s left behind pieces big and small for everyone here.
Message from Lauren Key
February 28, 2018 12:35 AM
As many know, I was unable to attend Grandpa's service, but thanks to technology, I got to be there via FaceTime. It was beautiful, and would've made Grandpa very happy. I did write something for him, which my mom, Jeanne, was able to read. Grandma asked me to put it on here for everyone to read. I will post it in another message. Thank you all for your kind words and support--we will all miss Grandpa greatly, but find comfort in knowing he is no longer suffering.
Message from Scott and Jennifer Key
February 23, 2018 5:43 PM
Our condolences to Phyllis, the kids and grandchildren. Irv raised a great family and served his country well. I always felt welcome in the Kruwell home, and have some fond memories of Irv dressing up as Santa for the grandkids, who softened the heart of a tough man. May God bless the family and give you peace during this time of sorrow.
Message from Lauren Key
February 25, 2018 1:12 AM
This is such a nice message. Thank you both for leaving it--made me smile, and was very touching, I couldn't be at the funeral, so had to attend virtually. I'm so happy Mamaw and Papaw were able to go, and that you all were there in spirit too.
Thanks again--love you both!
Thanks again--love you both!
An Arrive In Style was sent on February 23, 2018
You have been one of the most craziest, toughest man I know. Thank for welcoming me in and telling me war stories, showing me your wood crafts, and awards. I will truly miss you and will never forget the countless hours of just sittings in the living room and listening to your stories. - Thanh Thi
Message from Miriam Etienne - UTMB Galveston
February 23, 2018 1:14 PM
May it be a source of inner strength to know that there's a loving God watching over you, and that, throughout this time of need, He'll stay close by your side.
May God continue to bless you and your family.
May God continue to bless you and your family.
Message from DOT
February 23, 2018 11:00 AM
DOT FINNEY
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